Internships and Other Shameless Behavior
by Aerileigh
Summary: COMPLETE. Alarm bells and sirens were going off in Ginny’s mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to them. How had Malfoy managed to waltz inside her flat, invade her space, KISS HER, and paralyze her so that she could do nothing about it? DM/GW
1. Chapter 1

This was originally posted in The DG Forum's winter fic exchange last March. Since our summer exchange is coming to an end (you'll see the stories posted over the next few weeks), I thought I'd go ahead and post this under my own account.

I'm happy to say that this piece won a bunch of awards, including Best Characterization of Ginny AND of Draco, Best Kiss, and Most In Need of a Sequel. I'm still contemplating that last one...

Enjoy.

* * *

Ginny threw down her quill with an angry sigh.

"This is pointless," she announced to her refrigerator. She crumpled the paper into a small ball and pitched it into the trash bin.

"And that's another ten points for the Pride! Ginny Weasley is on fire tonight!" she proclaimed, then stood up and walked to the fridge. She opened it and raised an eyebrow. Surely it was possible to concoct something edible from a can of garbanzo beans, broccoli, and peanut butter. She cocked her head and looked in the fridge again.

"Nope." she said aloud, wandering to the fireplace and kicking the fridge door shut with her knee as she turned around. "Chinese it is."

A few minutes later, a container of sweet and sour chicken popped through the fireplace. Ginny picked it up and pulled at the chopsticks that were attached to the lid. She thought about attempting to use them for half a second before she remembered the Szechwan Incident. Sighing, she stalked back to the kitchen for a fork. Plopping on the floor in front of her couch, she shoved the day's paper off the coffee table and set the container in front of her. She speared a bite with zest and shoveled the yummy food into her mouth with a contented sigh.

"And I was always onto you about your room!"

Ginny's head shot up. Her mother's face emerged from the fireplace.

"Mum! What on earth?"

"You haven't stopped by the Burrow for dinner in two weeks! I thought I ought to check on my baby girl. Honestly, Ginny, how can you live in this filth? I raised you better than this. I warned your father, when you moved out, I did. I told him you'd die of starvation or be buried in laundry before the summer was up."

"Mum!" Ginny complained, "Give a girl some privacy and have the decency to call before you just stick your head into my living room and my business!"

"Funny you should mention business, Ginny. How is the application for that internship coming? Your father said there were memos gone out today at work about it. The deadline for the application is next week."

"All right, mum. All right. I was just working on it before dinner. I'm taking a break to eat, you know?"

"Yes. What are you eating? It looks…odd."

"It's Chinese, mum. And it's heavenly."

"Yes, well. Your father is so excited about this internship. He's always wanted one of his children to follow in his footsteps and work in the Department of Muggle Artifacts with him, you know."

Ginny nodded and tucked a loose red curl back behind her ear. "Yes mum, I know."

"Have you asked Harry about being a reference for you? After everything that happened in the war, I'm sure having his name on the application wouldn't hurt."

Ginny closed her eyes and ran her hand down her face.

"I'll do it, mum. I told you I'd do it."

"Well, that's fine then, dear. I know you don't want to wait tables at Flambish's forever."

Ginny kept her eyes closed. "No, mum. I really don't."

Molly Weasley looked hard at her youngest child—well, as hard as she could through the fireplace, anyway.

"Well, I hope you get the placement. I'm sure you will. I love you, Gin."

"Love you too, mum."

When Ginny opened her eyes, her mum was gone. Sitting next to the fireplace, however, was a memo from the Ministry of Magic. It was addressed to all internal employees, reminding them that the positions for fall internships at the Ministry included openings in the areas of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts (sigh), Muggle Worthy Excuse Committee (yawn) , Broom Regulatory Control (double yawn), and in The International Magical Office of Law.

Ginny's jaw dropped. She re-read the sentence in disbelief. The internships in international law always filled up quickly; she couldn't believe that the Ministry had included it on a list with so many undesirable positions. A spot in the International Magical Office of Law could change her life. She could travel, be responsible for things like the Quidditch Cup—she caught her breath and ran to the kitchen to find her quill.

She had an application to write.

She scribbled furiously for the next ten minutes, jotting down all of her thoughts about her passion for the justice and cooperation, her own experiences, and with a grimace, she even mentioned her connection to "Harry the Hero."

The clock on the wall startled her with a loud BONG, followed by "Hurry up, dear, or you'll be late. Hurry up, dear, or you'll be late!"

Ginny gave the clock a death glare and flicked at it with her wand until it shut up. Shoving her application to the side of the low table, she shoveled a few more bites of chicken into her mouth. Still chewing, she walked down the hallway into her bedroom and changed into the elegant black shirt and skirt that she wore at Flambish's.

-

Ginny Apparated into the back room of the classy restaurant exactly one minute before she was late. Tossing her bag and her wand into a locker, she shook out her hair and pulled the unruly loose red curls away from her face into a low bundle at the back of her neck.

"Weasley!" called another waiter, "You're very nearly late. I was worried I'd have to work a double!"

"Hello to you too, Luke," she called, sidestepping him, "And you were not worried. You love the overtime pay as much as the next person. Besides, you know I was here on time, and now you can leave. How is it tonight?"

Luke shrugged. "A normal Friday night. Bunch of rich people coming to see and be seen, as usual."

"Right." Ginny tied on a small black apron and slid an order book into the front pocket. She popped a magical earpiece into her right ear.

"Weasley, table twenty-four has just been seated." a voice crackled into her ear.

"Got to go, Luke. Have a nice night."

Ginny stepped out onto the floor of the dining room and swept a carefree curl back behind her ear with a confident hand. She approached the four top, smiled politely, and pulled the order book and quill from her pocket.

"Good evening, and welcome to Flambish's"

"Why, if it isn't the Weasel's little sister," drawled a platinum blond from the corner of the booth. "Really, love, they make a hero's sister wait tables now, do they?"

Ginny bristled but kept her face calm and smiled sweetly at her customers.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. Some of us prefer to make our own way in the world."

Malfoy smirked. "Oooh, well, it's hard to get anywhere in the world when you haven't a knut to your name."

Ginny's smile grew forced. "At least I'll have earned every one of them and not had them handed to me on a golden platter."

Draco's eyes sparkled. "No, love. My house elves save the golden platters for the galleons. I get my knuts off of silver ones."

His companions laughed. Two were girls that Ginny vaguely recognized—Astoria Greengrass had been in her year at Hogwarts, and the other was a Ravenclaw from Ron's year. The fourth member of the party was Blaise Zabini, and she turned to him.

"Can I take your order, Mr. Zabini?" She said, ignoring Malfoy's smug look and the two tittering sycophants who were fawning all over him. Disgusting excuses for women.

Blaise scrunched his nose and peered at the menu. "I'll have the lamb. Can you recommend a wine for that?"

"We have a fine selection. The sommelier will assist you with your choice momentarily." She replied robotically as her quill wrote down his order. "And you?" she asked the Ravenclaw.

Astoria ordered a salad, and when Ginny turned to the other girl she quickly ordered, "I'll have what she's having."

Ginny finally turned to Draco, who still hadn't wiped the smirk from his face. "What would you like, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Hmm," he began, looking not at the menu but straight into her face, "tell me, Weaslette, aren't there about a million other things an intelligent, beautiful young witch can do to earn a living?"

Ginny gritted her teeth. "What do you want tonight, Mr. Malfoy?"

He grinned evilly at her. "I'd tell you, but it would involve language hardly appropriate for such a high quality establishment."

Ginny mentally counted the days until the internships started. No, she couldn't hex him and lose her job yet. She needed the next few weeks of pay, no matter how satisfying bat bogeys would be.

"As fascinating as the prospect is, I'm merely interested in giving you something to eat."

"Oh, are you? Because I have some ideas about exactly what you could _give_ me, you know. Go ahead. Make my day."

Ginny seethed. It took every ounce of her energy to not start jamming her quill through his arrogant, smug eyes. Instead, she proffered an incredibly forced smile and replied tightly, "If you need some more time to make your selection, I can give you a few moments. I'll be back."

"No, I don't think that's necessary, love. I'll have what Blaise is having."

He smiled like a Cheshire cat as she took the menu from him.

"Send the sommelier over. We need a good celebratory vintage."

Ginny arched her eyebrows and nodded curtly, ready to turn away when Astoria spoke up.

"We're celebrating Draco's internship, you know."

Ginny clenched her jaw. "Internship placements aren't public for three more weeks." The words were out before she could stop them.

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "I'm a Malfoy, Weasley. These things are—" he stopped and his eyes tightened on hers. Ginny had never realized that his eyes were such a steely grey before. "Is little Miss Weasley also applying for an internship at the Ministry? Well, I suppose with your connections to Potter you're probably apt to get in somewhere. Muggle artifacts, perhaps?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy. International Magical Office of Law," she practically spat.

Draco raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his seat and Blaise guffawed. The girls tittered.

"Draco, aren't you going to get the internship there?" questioned Astoria worriedly.

Draco kept his eyes fixed on Ginny. The teasing had gone out of them completely, and instead he stared at her with a mixture of competitive arrogance, slight disbelief, and—yes, searching interest. Ginny self-consciously bit her lip but matched his gaze evenly.

"Yes, Astoria darling. Yes I am."

* * *

A/N: I disclaim. Movie lines scattered here and there, in no particular order, are from: _Sudden Impact_, _The Wizard of Oz_, _Grand Hotel, When Harry Met Sally, _and_ The Terminator._

**Reviews are, of course, much appreciated.**

* * *

Written for shewhodanceswithsquirrels:

**Basic Outline: **postwar, just out of school, obviously disregarding the _epilouge_. D and G are competing for an important internship spot in the ministry, can be whatever type of internship. Ends when somebody gets the internship. light hearted/ humour

**Must haves: **Ginny is independent but her family is a big part of her life.

-Draco persistently trying to use the sexual tension between them as leverage

-Eventually act on said tension, doesn't necessarily have to effect the running of the race however.

**No-no's: **ginny making draco good; draco making ginny bad, they are who they are, they just compliment each other.

-Draco's father having any influence on whether he gets the job or not; the wealth factor is up to you if you want to use it or not.

-blaise/luna, any past d/g, any past d/hermione

**Bonus: **If ginny saves draco from a potentially embarrassing predicament

-constant referall to american movies (does not mean that they hae to talk about it, but include lines that are straight out of movies)


	2. Chapter 2

The sunlight filtered through the leaded glass windows of Draco's study and toyed with his platinum hair. He slowly rolled up the sleeves of an otherwise pristine white oxford shirt just up to the elbow and glared malevolently at the papers on his desk. His father's idea of responsibility apparently involved more paperwork and less traveling than Draco had originally anticipated.

He signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of a purchase order for Malfoy Holdings and stood up with a sigh, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt as he walked over to pour a glass of brandy from the crystal decanter that glittered in the afternoon sunlight.

A light tap at the window caught his attention, and he slid open the pane to allow a tawny owl to enter the study. The bird carried the emblem of the Ministry, and Draco snatched the small parchment from the bird impatiently and tossed it a treat. He slid his thumb underneath the official looking seal and flipped open the parchment.

He skimmed the contents quickly as he heaved the window shut and then sat down at his desk to read the contents more carefully. It was not the reply he expected. Rather than a joyful letter congratulating him on his admission to the select internship, the green ink informed him that his application had passed the first step of the process and that he was being considered for the placement in a rather competitive position.

Draco's eyes darkened as he read the letter. Every Malfoy for generations had held the coveted internship, and the Minister had as good as given it to him when he had had dinner at the Manor earlier that year.

He frowned for a second before penning back a polite letter of thanks to the Minstry for their courteous letter, and then stalked to his owl's cage. He opened the ebony bird's cage and slipped the letter around her ankle, murmuring softly as he fed her a small treat.

Apparently, those Ministry fools were going to make him compete, and no one got the better of Draco Malfoy. His taste for success was barely tempered by scruple, and his sense of ambition was only matched by his cunning. Oh, Draco would compete.

That pretty little Weasley girl would never know what hit her.

* * *

Ginny was piling butter on a slab of toast when a Ministry owl knocked on her window. She licked her thumb, took the envelope from the owl and broke off the corner of her toast for the little creature. With shaking hands, she began to skim the letter.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_The Ministry of Magic is delighted to inform you that we have received your application for the internship for the office of International Magical Office of Law. Your experiences and references were excellent, and I am pleased to inform you are among a select few that have been chosen as candidates for this position. _

Ginny re-read the sentence twice and didn't bother to finish the letter. Her shriek of delight scared the normally pragmatic Ministry owl so much that he ruffled his feathers and made a beeline for the open window. Ginny ignored the bird and held the letter above her head.

"I'm in," she whispered giddily, then yelled, "I'm in!" she threw her hands up and danced around the kitchen to imaginary music. "Thank you, thank you!"

"Okay, you've really gone bonkers."

"Fred!" Ginny screeched, "Why does no one feel the need to respect my privacy!"

Fred snickered. "Well, Gin, maybe we're not used to you dancing about the kitchen in your knickers."

Ginny looked down and blushed. She had stumbled into the kitchen in her pajamas, which consisted of an old Cannons t-shirt and, well, her knickers.

"Get out of here, Fred! Let me get dressed!"

"You keep your clothes in the kitchen now? Mum was right. You really are a shoddy housekeeper."

"She said I was a shoddy housekeeper? Mum, with the dishes piled in the sink and—"

"Now, Gin, do you really want to be ranting about Mum while you stand in a kitchen with dishes piled _past_ the sink—in your knickers? At least Mum wore an apron, you goose."

"Out!" Ginny commanded, and pushed past him and tromped down the hall to her bedroom. She shrugged on a pair of faded denims and pulled her hair out of its messy knot for good measure.

"So," said Fred, leaning against the door frame, "What are you 'in?'"

Ginny turned from the mirror and beamed radiantly at her older brother. "Well, I'm not exactly 'in' yet, but I'm close. Don't tell mum, but I didn't apply for the Muggle Artifacts internship—"

"What!?" Fred interrupted, "Ginny! That's all she and Dad have been talking about for weeks!"

Ginny scrunched her nose up at her brother and flipped back toward the mirror, hastily charming mascara onto her eyelashes without thinking about it.

"I didn't apply for it because I applied for an internship with the International Magical Office of Law, Fred. And I just got the letter telling me I'm one of the lucky few who is in consideration," she said, glancing at Fred in the mirror. "You really look a fool when you stare like that."

"Really, Gin? International…wow." Fred whistled.

"Yeah, especially given the competition. I ran into none other than Draco Malfoy at work last night, and his arm candy bimbo stick let it slip that he wants to sell his soul to the Ministry as well." Ginny pushed past Fred and led the way back to the tiny kitchen. "Breakfast yet?"

Fred shook his head and nodded enthusiastically as she pulled out a box of donuts from the pantry.

"Malfoy, huh? What's that prat up to these days?"

"Being a git, as usual. He was terribly rude."

"Want me to go beat him up for you? Nah," Fred smirked ruefully. "That's more Charlie's domain. Want me to go stuff a Canary Cream in his piehole and feed him to Crookshanks?"

Ginny snorted. "Hermione would put you out on your arse if you fed something so nasty to her precious cat. Anyway, you could take him. He's nothing but tall angles and pretension."

"And a killer on a broomstick. He never had Harry beat, of course, but Harry was a marvel. Malfoy was still head and shoulders a better flyer than most."

Ginny dramatically dropped her head into hands, oblivious to the powdered sugar that now dusted her nose. "Okay, _why _are you praising Malfoy when I'm telling you what a prat he was to me? Brothers are idiots, I swear."

"Aw, Gin. I'll take that sorry little arse of his and beat it with his kajillion Galleon broomstick if he ever insults your honor again. Promise."

Ginny righted herself and smiled sweetly. "That's more like it. Now, scoot. I'm supposed to work lunch today, and I can't get ready with you distracting me with love ballads praising the men you admire." She dodged his swat and polished off her donut, licking the sugar from her fingers greedily.

* * *

Hours later, Ginny arrived home, still on top of the world despite a crazy shift and overtime to boot. She threw her wand onto the coffee table and set a brown paper bag in the fridge—one of the perks of working at a restaurant.

She sighed and headed toward the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she walked down the hall. She shrugged off the top and tossed it on the floor of her bedroom, replacing it with the Cannons t-shirt she had worn last night. She slipped off her skirt and picked up the denims she'd put on that morning. She smelled them and dusted some powdered sugar off the leg, then shrugged and pulled them on. She just wanted to bask in the glory of her imminent success; laundry be damned.

She was waltzing sleepily toward the kitchen when a knock on the door startled her. She crossed the living room and threw open the door, putting a hand on her hip.

"So, you're going to start respecting my privacy now?"

"Well, that depends, love. I think _not_ respecting it could be a lot more fun for us both," Malfoy drawled.

Ginny gaped at him. "Malfoy, what—why—how are you here?"

He smirked arrogantly. "I've made your brother stutter many a time, but you, Weaselette? I expected better."

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Ginny demanded, the initial shock wearing off.

"I want to talk to you. If you'll invite me in, that is. As wonderful as I look in the flickering light of the streetlamps, it does nothing for your complexion. Neither does that shade of orange."

Ginny slammed the door in his face and locked it ferociously, then stomped back to the kitchen muttering obscenities. He had looked awfully good with the streetlights casting flickering ribbons on his molten silver hair—wait, what was she _saying_? This was Malfoy. She uttered a few more choice expletives to make up for the stray thought.

Draco knocked again, and she yelled, "Not in a lifetime, Malfoy!" He repeated the gesture again, and she threw open the window and stuck her head out. "Go soak your head, you arrogant bastard. I have nothing to say to you!"

He turned his head and stared at her coolly. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn what you have to say, but if you don't stop making a scene and let me in, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Ginny let out an angry breath and slammed the window. She walked to the door and paused a second before throwing it open.

"You can come in, but if you say one derogatory word, I'll hex your with bat bogeys the likes of which you've never seen."

"As you wish," Draco said, stepping into her flat. He brushed against her as he stepped through the door, and she caught the smell of expensive cologne. She shook her head quickly and turned to see him pick his way across the floor, eye her sofa warily. He turned, still standing, and slid his hands into his pockets.

"So, this is your flat?" he asked, smiling sweetly. "Charming."

Ginny rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Draco Malfoy, sex god, had entered her flat, and focused instead on Draco Malfoy, arrogant bastard. "Get to the point, Malfoy."

His smile turned into a wicked smirk. "Well, I could, but you said nothing derogatory."

"Try. Even though I know it's hard for you, since you're a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot." Anger was the best mechanism here, she decided. Even a Slytherin would lose his temper and leave eventually.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. "So you can be insulting and I can't?"

"It's my house."

Draco stared at her for a long moment. He dropped the smirk and gazed evenly into her eyes with a cool look that appeared slightly vulnerable and slightly calculating. Ginny felt her heart quicken and hated her stupid body for liking him. It wasn't fair for a man to have eyes like that.

As if reading her thoughts, Draco took a few steps so that he was standing much closer to her, so that she had to tip her chin up slightly to meet his eyes.

"So, Miss Weasley, I have a proposition for you. Would you do me the honor of hearing me out?" he said quietly, all teasing gone from his voice. He inclined his head just slightly, his eyes nearly pleading for her attention.

Ginny found herself nodding despite the little voice in her head screaming, "He is playing with you right now! He wants something or he wouldn't be here, you idiot!" The other little voice in her head shivered at the thought of what Draco could possibly _want_.

Draco gave her a small smile.

"Good. I understand that you have applied for an internship that I want very badly."

Ginny nodded. "The International Magical—"

"Office of Law," Draco finished, taking a step closer so that the distance between them verged on uncomfortably close, and he dropped his voice so that it was barely above a whisper. "Yes. I need that internship desperately, and I understand that you do as well." He reached for one of Ginny's curls, tucked it neatly behind her ear, and smoothed it back with a gentle—and obviously practiced—hand.

"With an internship like that, you could prove to your family that you are independent. That you can make your way through the world as a successful witch without hanging onto your mother's apron strings. You'd be able to travel, attend important events…"

Draco dwindled off, and Ginny grew conscious that his eyes this time fixed on her mouth. How did he know all that? He had just explained her psyche more clearly than she would have ever been able to do, and part of her continued yelling that this was _not_ a good sign. However, the other part was turning into jelly, and maybe letting her eyes wander onto his mouth, which looked so soft and gentle, and maybe letting her bit her lower lip, ever so unconsciously.

"But there's a chance that you won't get the internship, isn't there? And that worries you, because there's a whole year before you can apply for another. A whole year of waiting tables and listening to your family nag and hover over their baby girl." Draco smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. "But you're not a baby girl, are you?"

With that, Draco leaned in and ever so gently captured her lips with his in a warm kiss. His mouth was sweet, just forceful enough to keep Ginny from protesting, and to her chagrin she found that she met him evenly. With a little sigh, she parted her lips and let him kiss her as deeply as he liked, and as he began his painstakingly slow invasion, he slid a hand up to her neck, holding her with something like reverence that was also undeniably control. Ginny leaned into him as his tongue elicited a quiet moan from her, wondering how such a wrong kiss could be so heavenly.

Alarm bells and sirens were going off in Ginny's mind, but she couldn't bring herself to listen to them. What had happened to anger being the best mechanism? How had Malfoy managed to waltz inside her flat, invade her space, KISS HER and paralyze her into doing nothing about it?

He pulled back slowly and gently brushed the same curl back from her face. "I hope that wasn't derogatory," he smiled.

"Not at all." Ginny replied, cursing herself for smiling back.

"So, my proposition is this, Ginny," he said, casting wickedly lovely enchantments over her with his deep, grey eyes. "I can give you a position at Malfoy Holdings, overseeing the French division. Traveling, fancy parties, prestige, it's all yours. All you need to do is drop out of the running for the internship."

The fuzzy feelings and the alarm bells alike stopped dead as Ginny's blood froze.

"What?" she bit icily.

"You may or may not get the internship. This is a given path of success, Ginny," he said, eying her mouth again.

"Oh, no, Mr. Malfoy," she said, stepping backward, incensed. This was far beyond petty insults and arrogant smirks. "This is bribery, and you are trying to manipulate me into it. Well, I'm sorry, but you do not have a deal."

"Really, Ginny?" Draco sighed and examined his gloves, looking up at her with dove grey eyes that were a lot harder than they had been moments before, "Really?"

"Yes, _really_, Draco." she spat. Two could use given names.

"Fine. But it's bribery or extortion, love. Pick your poison."

"I beg your pardon? And I am not your love!"

"Oh, but you are begging, and all my lovers beg me for all kinds of things," he said lazily. His smirk was back in all its former glory, complete with mischievously glinting eyes.

"I'm not going to quit, Malfoy. I'm no coward."

"Fine. But you should know that Malfoy Holdings acquired a large percentage of shares in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

"Well, bully for Malfoy Holdings." Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips.

"It would be a shame if they were to sell it all tomorrow and send your brothers' fledging company into the dustbin, wouldn't it?" Draco raised a pointed eyebrow.

Ginny gaped and rounded on him. "You're despicable. But you know what? I'm no coward, and neither are Fred and George. You're the coward, Malfoy! I will not be manipulated by you!"

"Oh, now that's a shame. You make such sweet little noises when I do," he drawled.

Ginny flew at him, screaming, "Out! Now! Get out of my flat before I hex you so hard it'll make your ancestors dizzy!" She practically shoved him out the door and locked it with a vengeance.

This was war.

* * *

A/N: Movie quotes here and there are from _Gone with the Wind_, _9 to 5_, _The Princess Bride_, and_ Mulan_

Reviews make my day! It only takes a few seconds. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny was determined to wake up bright and early on the morning of her interview, which proved to be a painful process for a girl who preferred waking up at the last possible second and dressing in a rush. She let herself hit the snooze button only two times before rolling out of bed, bleary eyed, and stumbling into her kitchen to make a large pot of coffee.

"Blessings upon your inventor," she whispered to the steaming cup as she took the first warm sip of the dark beverage, feeling the warmth slip down into her stomach. She ran a hand across her cheek, feeling the indentation of the sheets still pressed into her skin.

She stumbled into her bathroom and splashed some water on her face, yawned, and picked up her toothbrush, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment.

What the hell was she about to do?

Two nights ago, she'd been so blind with rage at Malfoy that she'd stayed up all night plotting revenge, but Ginny had six ounces of cunning and thirty gallons of nobility, and she'd drawn a complete blank. Trading an insult or two was one thing, but bringing down the god of Slytherin? Not a chance.

Ginny scrunched up her nose ruefully. The best course of action seemed to involve doing her best at this bloody interview and being prepared as she possibly could be to block all of Malfoy's curveballs and, if she was lucky, throw them back. First, though, she needed to brush her teeth.

She finished her morning ablutions and pulled the seldom-worn business robes from her closet. She'd worn them once since her parents had given them to her as a graduation gift, and as she clasped them firmly over her tailored blouse, she wondered why she didn't try to look this good more often. She was poised and confident, with her curls tamed into neat waves, the perfectly pressed collar of her shirt peeking out just so from the tailored black robes, and delicate drop emerald earrings that brought out the gold in her hair—a gift from Bill.

The extra time in her morning routine had been well worth it.

Ginny grabbed the leather attaché case and double-checked to make sure that it held her résumé, CV, transcripts, and reference letters—including a rather nice one from Harry, despite everything.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her robes, and lifted her wand to Apparate to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

"You bloody stupid elf! When I said I wanted these robes pressed, I meant _pressed_, not flat ironed!"

The elf took the robes and stared up at Draco fearfully.

"Excuse Millo, sir, but these is the third robes you has sent back this morning, and I is thinking that…"

Draco rounded on the small elf and hissed, "What gives you the idea that I care a knut what you think? Fix it."

He turned back to his closet and took a deep breath as soon as the elf disappeared with a pop. This was the Weasley girl's fault, he reasoned. He wasn't supposed to have to go through a stupid interview. He was supposed to be accepted, and the fools at the Ministry were supposed to be overjoyed to have him among them.

He should have sold her brothers' precious stock. He should have called the firm that night and ordered them to drop it. Then he should have appeared on her doorstep, turned her into a little puddle, and made everything all better. She'd be wrapped around his little finger—or better—and he'd have his precious internship.

But he hadn't been able to do it.

Draco licked his lips impatiently and ran a hand through his hair, then swore and tried desperately to return it to its state of perfectly managed disarray. He cursed the mirror so thoroughly that it got offended and told him that he looked like a spoiled bastard, and that did not help matters in the slightest.

It reminded him of her. No other girl had melted for him like that only to throw him out on his arse. For that matter, no other girl had kissed him back like she had, so honest in her kiss, yet not brazen—she was vulnerable. Normally, Draco knew exactly what to do with vulnerable, yes. But Ginny's honest acceptance of his kiss and her fiery intolerance shortly after it had done something to him.

Not to mention the little moan. Draco's grey eyes shifted away from the mirror, absently looking to the left. Merlin…that little moan, and the way her hair had entwined itself so willingly in his fingers, and the way she scrunched her nose when she was pondering his face…

"Salazar Slytherin! Where are my goddamned bloody robes!" he yelled, casting a _reducto_ curse on his mirror for good measure. A frightened elf popped into the room and Draco grabbed the robes from his arms, shrugging them on.

"Clean up that glass and get rid of it. And tell the steward I need a new mirror," he said flatly, clasping the robes.

He checked his appearance once more in the hall mirror, slid his portfolio into his briefcase and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic with a quiet pop.

* * *

The offices of the International Magical Office of Law were nothing if not intimidating, thought Ginny. She'd felt incredibly professional admiring her reflection in her messy flat, but here, dwarfed by the long marble corridors and ignored by dozens of official looking people, she felt insignificant. For the second time that day, she wondered what the hell she was doing.

She found the office referenced in her letter and approached the receptionist, a short squat woman with mousy brown hair.

"Hello. I'm Ginevra Weasley, and I'm here regarding the fall internships," she announced, feigning confidence. That Gryffindor bravery had been good for something, she mused.

"Oh, yes. Are you withdrawing your application as well?" asked the short woman, looking up at Ginny with a polite but obviously practiced smile.

"Er, no. I'm here for the interview. I've no plans to—why would you think that I—"

The receptionist cut her off. "Oh, well. I was flooded with calls yesterday and I was beginning to believe that a rumor had gone out that the position was cursed. I mean, it's been several years since Billy Corrigan went and…never mind."

Ginny stared cock-eyed at the woman. "I'm sorry, er, so, my interview?"

The woman nodded. "Ah, yes. Well, I must say, you have incredibly good odds at getting the position, that's for certain. Room 1687, just down the hall and to the left, past the statue of Edna the Edifying. It's easy to find."

Ginny nodded her thanks and then paused.

"If I might, who is my competition?"

"Don't they teach logic in schools these days?" drawled a voice, and Ginny felt the tingle of goosebumps along the back of her neck.

Malfoy walked up to the reception desk and flashed the winner of _Witch Weekly's_ "Most Charming Smile" award at the receptionist. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I would be her competition."

The older secretary tittered—actually _tittered_—and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Room 1687, Mr. Malfoy. Just down the hall and to the left, past the statue of Edna the Edifying. I can show you the way, if you like. No trouble at all."

Draco smiled again and Ginny half expected him to wink at the poor woman. Instead, he thanked her politely and turned to Ginny.

"Well, Weasley. Ladies first?"

They walked down the long stretch of oak paneled corridor together. Ginny kept herself half a breadth ahead of Draco; far enough in front so that he wasn't leading her down the hall.

"So, Ginny," he said saucily, "This is it, huh? A race to the finish? Just you and me?"

Ginny stopped short and whispered furiously, "You did this, didn't you? You're the reason that everyone else quit! How many other doors did you knock on that day, Draco? How many other naïve girls did you manipulate and kiss? Merlin, Parkinson had more class. You're nothing more than a cheap slut!"

Draco's eyes went from mischievous silver to murderous steel in a flash. He grabbed Ginny's wrist and pulled her toward the nearest door, which happened to be a women's toilet.

"Are you daft?" he hissed, checking to make sure the room was empty. "Using that kind of language in the halls of the Ministry thirty seconds before our interviews? Don't you have anything resembling sense?"

"Don't you have anything resembling shame?"

"Oh, right, because telling me that calling me a worse whore than _Parkinson_ in the halls of one of the most prestigious branches of the Ministry is a far cry from shameless behavior," he drawled, his voice laden with sarcasm. Ginny tried to shake her wrist free from him, but he held on tightly and pulled her toward him.

"I don't believe you! You bribed, you threatened, and you did everything in your power to destroy the competition? Your moral compass has obviously been smashed to smithereens."

Draco's face maintained its icy mask, and Ginny realized that she was standing practically on tiptoe, inches from his face. Hastily, she stepped backward.

"I don't care for your reasoning. Just don't call me nasty names in public or you will regret it."

"So I can call you a slut in private, then?" Ginny said saucily.

Draco raised his eyebrows and granted her a magnificently arrogant smirk. "If I really convince you that I deserve it, and if you really want to, then I don't see why not."

Ginny blushed crimson and swallowed. "That's not what I meant."

"Admit it, love. You enjoyed my kisses thoroughly," he said, his eyes glinting. The sound of quick footsteps outside made them both glance nervously at the door.

"Kiss. One of them. And you only got it because you are a manipulative bastard," she whispered furiously as the noise outside faded away.

"But you aren't denying that you enjoyed it."

Ginny cursed. "If we weren't in the heart of the Ministry of Magic right now, I'd hex you—"

"So hard that my ancestors would get dizzy. You've been clear about that," he drawled lazily, looping a finger from his free hand through her hair and watching the red strands slide between his fingers. He slowly lifted his grey eyes to hers.

"If we weren't in the heart of the Ministry of Magic right now, I'd tell you that I can't get that kiss out of my mind," he whispered slowly, still toying with her hair.

Ginny went through a rapid fire drill in emotional combat. He was vulnerable, which meant he was being manipulative, which meant that he wanted something, which could be another kiss, but more likely was her head on a platter. She blinked several times and opened her mouth to respond twice.

"You're a liar."

Draco arched an eyebrow at her and considered this, inclining his head so that a drift of white blond hair fell across his temple.

"I promise you, I'm not, and to prove it, I'll make a deal with you. If you get the position, you can tell the entire world that my moral compass has been 'smashed to smithereens.' If I get it, I get one more kiss. And we agree to behave civilly until then."

Ginny eyed him warily and finally swatted his hand away from her hair, half-surprised it was still there.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

Ginny lived in misery the next two days. She was only scheduled to work one shift at Flambish's and she was far too anxious to even consider visiting The Burrow, so she spent a great deal of the forty-eight hours in her precious orange t-shirt with a spoon in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other. Sugar did things that magic could never hope to do.

A knock at the door startled her out of her cookie-dough coma, and she grabbed a pair of denims from the back of the sofa and threw them on quickly. She yanked the elastic from her hair and ran a hand through her messy curls as she walked to open the door.

When she took in the blond standing on her threshold, she almost shut it in his face, but Draco managed to wedge a black dragon hide boot in the gap.

"Now, Weasley, that's hardly fair," he called through the crack.

Ginny grumbled, ran her fingers through her hair once more, then opened the door.

"Yes?"

Draco just stared at her.

"What? Going to ask me if I ever bathe? If I own more shirts than this one? Hm?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

"No. Hardly."

Yes, Draco thought, the shirt would need to go—in both senses, eventually—but in the afternoon light Ginny's messy curls glowed like a halo framing an unadorned, honestly beautiful face. Her shirt hinted at lovely curves, and her denims, though comfortably loose, hugged them in all the right places. He hadn't really expected such a revelation, though he admitted to himself that he had been looking forward to this moment for two entire days.

He cleared his throat.

"Might I come in?" she stepped aside and he walked into the flat, and Ginny watched as he noted the even greater state of disarray.

"Well? What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco turned and met her eyes evenly. "I've come for my kiss."

He handed her a letter written in green ink, and Ginny's stomach twisted. She flipped the letter open and skimmed the contents, then handed it back to him.

"Fine. Take it," she said, bringing her chin up to meet his gaze with a challenge of her own.

Draco licked his lips hesitantly and stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her waist. Despite herself, Ginny shivered. The material on the t-shirt had worn thin, and she could feel the warm pressure of his hands drawing her toward him like a magnet. He reached up with a cool hand and brushed her curls back over her shoulder and slid a finger down her cheek. His eyes were mercurial, changing with every movement, but though Ginny searched for arrogant gloating, she couldn't find it.

Maybe this wasn't about manipulation. If he already had the internship, well…she wasn't sure what to think, but the fingernails lightly tracing the curve of her neck were quickly driving all coherent thought from her mind.

He leaned in slowly, still holding her eyes with his, and slid his hand through her hair to capture her neck. Ginny realized she was holding her breath and let it all out with a shuddery breath as Draco closed the distance.

And then he pulled away. "Ginny, I…I don't…I mean, I won't…"

Ginny didn't think. She just shook her head, reached for the back of his head, and pulled his mouth down to hers, and he met her evenly. She let him part her lips and he slowly and thoroughly enjoyed her mouth, and she gave him the satisfaction of another little whimper. She raked her fingernails along his neck and shoulders, suddenly desperate for more of him. He obliged, finding the back of her neck again, sending shivers down her spine and pulling her toward him, kissing her so soundly that the little whimper became a soft moan.

He pulled away, breathing heavily. "Merlin. Ginny, I had no idea."

Ginny just shook her head, still dazed. She discovered that he had backed her up to the wall, and she was suddenly extremely grateful for the stability, as her legs had conveniently decided to turn into jelly.

"Er, Ginny, you have an owl," said Draco, still distracted.

Ginny glanced up to see a Minstry owl pecking on the glass. She lifted the sash and the bird dropped a letter in her lap. She sighed and broke the seal, ready to read her "Thanks but sorry" letter.

What she read made her jaw drop, and she handed the letter to Malfoy, who read it and then stared at her, decidedly uncollected for once.

"You got an internship too? That can't be right."

"Keep reading. They decided to open up two spots to 'handle the high demand,'" she said, unable to keep from grinning.

"Well," began Draco, setting down the parchment, "I suppose if I got my reward, you should get yours too. Tell me, when are you going to inform the world of my indiscretions?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him. "Here's the thing about that, Draco. If we're both interns, we're going to be working together, and seeing each other every day. If I became bitter enemies with you now, that's going to make being successful at this job very, very difficult for me."

Draco smirked. "So, Weasley, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think I want a different kind of prize, if you are willing to change our deal, Malfoy. I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

He had her back against the wall in three seconds, flat.

* * *

**The End**

A/N: Quotes are from _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and _Casablanca _(I couldn't resist) and modified references to _Die Another Day_ (James Bond), and _Mulan_.

Again, to all my darling reviewers, hugs all 'round.

And stay tuned! I have a Lucius/Ginny fic, a D/G Christmas fic, and a Red Ember update all in the works. Here's to the end of my writer's block!


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